Breathless
by elfmaiden4legs
Summary: ****In the aftermath of TGG the stress proves too much for Sherlock, but can Watson convince his ailing friend to listen and start taking better care of himself before he grinds himself into the ground?


**Breathless**

John Watson watched as a deeply distracted Sherlock paced up and down in front of him. His friend's complexion appeared pale, perhaps even tinged with a slight unhealthy hew as the shimmering surface of the swimming pool cast everything and indeed everyone in the nearby vicinity in several shades of liquid blue. His movements seemed somewhat erratic, even by his own standards.

At first John thought that this might be just another new and so far unseen level to the other man's extreme and frequently irregular behaviour patterns – characterised by the characteristic fluctuations in mood; the manic highs and the extreme lows which left his friend prone to rash decision making on occasion, and bouts of depression which left him isolated for days – such moody episodes which he's become so accustomed to having to deal with on an almost daily bases since the day he'd first moved in with the mysterious Sherlock Holmes.

He watched his friend's pacing with some degree of professional curiosity, although the friend in him warning him not to aggravate his friend's anxieties further – the insight of past experience informing him that his interference would not be appreciated. The doctor however failed to keep his nagging concerns at bay – especially as his friend's behaviour began to flag up the early warning signs that he was clearly in a state of severe agitation, and doing his best to conceal his distress.

"Are you alright?" He asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear the response from the man himself.

Sherlock, true to character simply nodded, still not comfortable enough to completely release his grasp on his emotions, even in front of a friend, and replied in a slightly distracted tone of voice.

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine."

Even as he spoke however the trained ear of Doctor John Watson could hear the breath catching in his friend's throat, his breathing becoming increasingly more laboured with each new step.

He staggered to his feet, slightly uneasy on his own feet at first as he tried to break Sherlock's erratic stride by putting himself between him and his direct line of sight.

"No you're not." He scolded as he immediately reached for Sherlock's wrist to check his pulse. "I'm certainly not alright, I've never been so bloody scared… your pulse is racing." He finally observed, allowing a few silent seconds to pass between them as he concentrated on the rhythmic flutter beneath his fingers. "You need to sit down."

"I can't." Sherlock snapped, his breath still coming out in short ragged gasps. "There's too much to think about… too much going on up here…" He said as he tapped at his head irritably.

Watson sighed.

"And you need to start thinking more about what's going on in here." He exclaimed, poking his friend a little harder than he initially intended to in the ribs. "You're going to burn yourself out."

"Argh, I hate this stupid fallible body!" Sherlock growled, ruffling his hands through his hair in his frustration. "It's not conducive to an intellectual mind."

"You're only human." Watson observed sympathetically as he gently forced Holmes to sit upon the chlorine soaked floor, back resting against the tiled wall of the swimming pool. "You're flesh and bone not cogs and metal. The human body can only cope with so much." He explained, fingers still tightly clasped around his friend's slender and pale wrist as he kept a dutiful check of the fluttering rhythmic pulse beneath.

Finally he released his grip, allowing Sherlock's limp hand and wrist to flop down heavily by his side.

"You'll be fine." He concluded finally. "But you need to start taking things more easily."

'_Chance would be a fine thing'_ He thought to himself however, as he continued to keep watch over his agitated friend, as Sherlock's breathing appeared to return to normal now that he was sitting down.

Sherlock was stubborn, and often seemed unconcerned and equally un-phased by matters concerning his own health… too frequently leaving Watson to worry enough for the both of them.


End file.
